Hangman
Ratings5
Average rating3.4
An enthralling and original first novel about exile, diaspora, and the impossibility of Black refuge in America and beyond.
In the morning, I received a phone call and was told to board a flight. The arrangements had been made on my behalf. I packed no clothes, because my clothes had been packed for me. A car arrived to pick me up.
A man returns home to sub-Saharan Africa after twenty-six years in America. When he arrives, he finds that he doesn’t recognize the country or anyone in it. Thankfully, someone recognizes him, a man who calls him brother—setting him on a quest to find his real brother, who is dying.
In Hangman, Maya Binyam tells the story of that search, and of the phantoms, guides, tricksters, bureaucrats, debtors, taxi drivers, relatives, and riddles that will lead to the truth.
This is an uncommonly assured debut: an existential journey; a tragic farce; a slapstick tragedy; and a strange, and strangely honest, story of one man’s stubborn quest to find refuge—in this world and in the world that lies beyond it.
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One of my goals for 2024 is to read books I wouldn't usually read and challenge myself. This book certainly fit that goal. I can't say I enjoyed reading this book because that would make it sound as if it was fun for me to read. That being said, I'm very glad I read it. I had an inkling as to what was happening to the main character by Chapter 4 and by Chapter 5, I was certain I knew. But...even though I knew, I didn't know exactly how things had happened. The last page and a half of this novel made me literally gasp out loud. The climax of the novel hits you in the gut. Even though it was difficult to read, and at parts, I thought I was stupid for not exactly understanding, by the end, everything made sense. This is a book that will stick with me for a long time.
This book had potential. It has beautiful writing and an exquisite plot, serving the author a gem of a book on a platter.Instead, Maya Binyam creates this dull atmosphere with unengaging characters. I was constantly getting bored, waiting for the book to end. I tried loving this book for what it is, but this was not for me.
By page 30 I was strongly motivated to DNF; kept going because of the reviews. I regret continuing.
Narrated first-person by an affectless middle-aged man, completely dissociated from the events he relates, passively moving from one situation to the next but with no agency or engagement. You know those people who love to tell you their dreams? “And then this happened and then this and then I got in a car except it became a plane and then ...”? Like that, for two hundred pages. I’m not the kind of person who loves listening to dreams, so I found it increasingly tedious and even more so once I figured out what was going on. (The “twist” at the end is no such thing, it was telegraphed early and became increasingly obvious.)
Binyam is fiercely smart: there are snippets of insight, cultural criticism, awareness of self-awareness that delighted me ... but briefly, and too rarely. This was too long, drawn out and rambling. I will optimistically seek out her shorter publications.
